


Illya Makes a Date

by JantoJones



Series: Stand-alone  (The 1st 100) [23]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 04:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6408088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting a date U.N.C.L.E. style</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Way to Make a Date

Napoleon Solo rarely ventured into the labs, but he was on a mission. His partner had been squirreled away down here for the last two days, trying to analyse an unidentified THRUSH object they'd found on their last Affair. U.N.C.L.E. had an entire department to do that but, because he had some spare time, Illya had decided to perform his other function; that of scientist. Even though he wasn't a part of Research & Development, Illya had his own small lab and office, and a fair amount of autonomy. Napoleon found the Russian in his lab, glancing through a pile of papers.

"Good evening Tovarisch," Napoleon greeted him and sat on the edge of the desk.

Illya looked up at his partner with a puzzled expression.

"It's evening?" He asked, looking at his watch.

"It is," Solo confirmed. "I've come down to offer you dinner. Partly to get you out into the fresh air, but mainly to thank you for saving me from that bullet on that last mission."

"You've thanked me already Napoleon."

"Are you actually turning down a free meal?" The American was astounded.

"I never said that."

They were interrupted by a lab tech, who immediately drew Napoleon's attention, but who ignored him almost completely. The dark haired beauty only had eyes for one man in the room, and it wasn't the CEA. Unfortunately, the object of her longing didn't seem to take much notice of her.

"I have the information you asked for Dr Kuryakin," she said sweetly, as she handed the file over.

"Thank you Penny," Illya replied, without looking up.

The young woman smiled sadly at Napoleon, before leaving. Solo looked from her to his partner and shook his head. The man seemed to be oblivious to the poor woman's desires. Still, that was his loss.

"She called you Dr Kuryakin."

"She would," Illya answered. "In the lab I'm addressed by my proper title."

"Makes you sound like a spy movie villain," Napoleon laughed at his own joke.

"If anything, I would have thought I was a spy movie hero."

"Yeah," Solo agreed." But it's always the villain who is known by a title. You know, doctor, professor, lord. That sort of thing."

"Napoleon, if I promise to meet you at reception in half an hour, will you take your terrible sense of humour somewhere else?"

Solo grinned. "Okay, but if you aren't up by 7:15, I'm coming back down."

Twenty minutes later, Illya was finally ready to go and meet his partner. He was just taking off his lab coat when Penny dashed back into the office.

"Dr Kuryakin, the object is doing something."

Illya didn't stop to ask questions. He darted into his lab and cautiously peered at the object on the bench. He had been working on the principle that the shoe box sized object was some sorted of data storage unit. Looking at it now, he was less certain. It was vibrating loudly and there seemed to be some heat radiating off it.

"Get out!" He yelled to Penny.

He held back to allow her to leave before him and as a result he blocked her from the explosion. It wasn't a big blast, but it was enough to destroy the lab and caused Illya to be thrown on top of Penny. Alarms started blaring all over the building, but Illya was in no condition to hear them.

"Dr Kuryakin?" Penny whispered. She was barely able to speak due to having an unconscious Russian draped over her. "Dr Kuryakin, please don't be dead."

She tried to roll him off but they'd managed to fall in a doorway, so there was nowhere for him to go.

"Dr Kuryakin?" She tried again.

A groan from above her, told Penny that Illya was still alive.

"I think, under the circumstances," he groaned. "You can call me Illya. Are you hurt?"

Penny giggled, a little hysterically. The man had just been hit in the back by an explosion and he was concerned about her well-being.

"A little squashed," she gasped. "But I'm otherwise fine."

Illya tried to move himself, but his legs didn't seem to want to obey him. However, he was relieved to realise he could at least still feel them.

"Why is it taking so long for help to arrive?" Penny queried.

"Blast doors," Illya explained. "As soon as an explosion is sensed, they automatically come down. Only Mr Waverly, Napoleon or myself can override the ones protecting this lab."

As soon as he finished speaking, a security team burst in, followed by Napoleon and a medical team.

"Really Tovarisch, if you didn't want to have dinner with me, you only had to say."

**************************************************************************

Less than an hour later, Illya was already demanding to be let out of medical. He had no chance of course, as his doctor wanted to make sure there was no permanent damage. The bomb hadn't been powerful, but if it had gone off in someone's face it would have killed them. Penny the lab tech had been checked over and declared fit. Deciding to visit Dr Kuryakin, she found him accusing a nurse of holding him captive.

"I'll come back later," she mumbled.

"No, please come in," Illya insisted. "Maybe you can persuade Lucretia Borgia here that I am fine."

"Lucretia Borgia?" Penny chuckled.

The nurse sighed. "Mr Kuryakin, who can endure most of the tortures THRUSH can devise, is a little averse to a tiny syringe."

If looks truly could kill, the nurse would have been a pile of ash on the floor.

"I'm sure they've only got your interests at heart Dr Kuryakin."

"I thought we were on first name terms now," he said with a smile.

Taking the opportunity, the nurse left her belligerent patient with his visitor. His whole demeanour had changed since her arrival so maybe she could keep him calm.

"I wanted to thank you for saving my life Dr . . . erm . . . Illya."

"It is what I do," The Russian told her, with a self-depreciating shrug. "May I ask you something Penny?"

"Please do."

"Would you allow me to take you to dinner?"

Penny could have swooned. Illya had barely looked at her up to this point, but it seemed that lying on top of her had made him notice.

"Yes," she accepted. "Just let me know when you're free."


	2. Scars

Penny hurriedly unlocked her front door so that she and her date could get in quickly. They were both soaked to the skin following a sudden downpour on the way back from the restaurant. She invited the man in to get dried off, and briefly wondered what the other U.N.C.L.E. lab techs would say if they knew she had Illya Kuryakin in her house.

"I'll get you a towel and a robe," she shouted as she ran upstairs. "I hope you don't mind a pink frilly one."

Illya smiled at the idea of frilly robe. He didn't mind what he wore as long as he got to take it off again for Penny. He removed his jacket and hung it on the back of a dining chair, before peeling off his turtle neck. Penny returned just as he was pulling the garment over his head.

"Oh!" She exclaimed.

Her reaction was caused by two reasons. Firstly, the beautiful Russian was stripping off in her sitting room, but she was also shocked by the mass of white marks covering his back.

"What's wrong Penny?" Illya asked, concerned that she sounded slightly upset.

"Sorry Illya," she answered, a little too quickly. "I just hadn't realised."

"Realised what?"

"Erm . . . well," she flustered. "We're all aware of what you Section 2 agents are subjected to, but I didn't know you were so scarred."

"Is it a problem?" Illya could feel his heart sinking. He'd been looking forward to getting intimate with Penny, but he also knew first hand that some women were put off by the scarring.

"Oh, no," she assured him, as she traced some of the lines which peppered his back. "It just gives me a much greater appreciation of what you do for us. Are these whip marks?"

"Some are," the Russian told her, enjoying the sensation of her fingers as they played across his skin. There seemed to be an electric charge as each finger touched his flesh. "I was given seventy two lashes with a cat o' nine tails."

Penny tenderly laid kiss upon kiss on the marks. Illya could feel the tickle of her breath on his back as she moved from scar to scar.

"What are the others?" She whispered between kisses.

"A leather strop," Illya replied, breathily. "I was given forty strokes by a mad school mistress." *

"I don't know how you endure it," she said, completely in awe of the man. "It must be pure hell."

"It is an occupational hazard," Illya responded, with a shrug; his breathing becoming shallower with lust.

Starting at the base of his spine, Penny pressed a line of hot kisses up to the nape of Illya's neck; all the while running her hands across his chest. The blond agent shivered and groaned with pleasure; arching his back. He laid his hands over hers and gave himself to her touch.

"What's this one on your shoulder?"

Illya grimaced at the memory. None of his scars had happy memories attached, but the two he'd received from the son of Carl Voegler had been particularly gruesome.

"Someone took exception to my killing his father," he explained. "Napoleon had to push the arrow all the way through, and out of my chest. You can see the corresponding scar here." **

He turned round and showed her the match to the one on his shoulder. Penny immediately laid her lips upon it, causing all the blood in Illya's body to rush to his groin. He gently put a finger under her chin and guided her lips to meet his. He'd waited too long for the kiss and was hungry for it. It was far from tender, and each of them crushed the mouth of the other in desperate passion. Penny had her hand behind Illya's head to make sure he couldn't pull away before she did; not that he had any intention to.

When the need for oxygen finally forced them apart, Penny continued her exploration of the Russian's body. She was surprised at how it felt beneath her hands. With his clothes on he looked slight and, quite frankly, rather weak. Feeling the firm torso he kept hidden was a revelation and a delight. She could sense the potential energy his muscles held. He had a gymnast's body; lithe and powerful. Her deft fingers moved down to his belt and quickly removed it. She also made fast work of his fly and slid his trousers down his legs. Halfway down his left thigh she found another scar.

"It was from an Arabian dagger," he murmured, running his hands through her long, black hair. "The woman who threw it decided I was her property."***

"I'm afraid that is my privilege tonight," Penny purred, as she kissed her way back up his leg, coming to rest just above his hip.

Illya moaned. She was so close to the most important area, but she'd skimmed straight past it to another scar. He explained to her that it was a bullet wound he'd gotten while escaping from a THRUSH satrap. He'd been on a retrieval with a rookie agent, who had almost jeopardised the mission because of it. ****

Sweeping across to the other side of his abdomen, Penny found Illya's final scar. The Russian could feel the heat from her body radiating against his crotch. She had to be aware of just how aroused she was making him. THRUSH torturers could learn a thing or two from this woman, he thought to himself.

"This one looks surgical," she cooed, before dragging her hot tongue along the mark.

"Appendix," he gasped. Illya was so close to exploding, and they hadn't really done anything yet.

Penny had given all her attention to his scars, and the fact she hadn't shied away from them gave Illya hope for the future. Not with Penny. They both knew this was a one-time thing, but it gave him the hope that not everyone would be repulsed by the marks he wore. At first, he'd resented them as reminders of pain and torture. Latterly, he had come to regard them as badges of honour. Apart from the appendix scar, each one had been earned in the pursuit of peace. He took the punishments so that other people could continue to live their normal, everyday lives.

Illya took hold of Penny's arms and urged her to stand up.

"I think it is a little unfair that I am standing here, almost naked, while you are still fully dressed."

Penny smiled and turned her back to Illya. He immediately understood the reason and he slowly undid the zipper of her dress. The garment dropped to the floor, revealing matching red bra and panties. Illya may not get as much practice as his partner, but he could still get a bra off in one easy move. The sight of Penny's perfect breasts was almost too much for him. They were small, without being too small, and wonderfully firm. Illya cupped each one and gently massaged the nipples with his thumbs. He felt Penny tremble at the touch and he smiled.

The material of his underwear was under serious strain by this point, so Illya decided it was time to get serious. He kicked off his shoes and socks and picked Penny up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and grabbed his hair in her fists. The Russian wasted no more time and ran, carrying Penny, up the stairs.

 

_*The Children's Day Affair._

_** Borrowed, with kind permission, from 'The Archer's Revenge' by girl in the glen._

_***The Arabian Affair._

_****From my own story 'Desperate measures'._


End file.
